Magic (1)
Elves. A race that appears in just about every fantasy story ever told—long, pointed ears, beautiful faces, and famously long lives.
I died in an accident and was reborn as one.
Being reborn as an elf was disorienting, but thankfully this life wasn't an orphan's life. I had parents—a strict but responsible father, and a mother who was gentle no matter what. Thanks to them, I never once went hungry.
The problem was that elves don't eat meat. For someone like me, who loves meat, this was a source of deep dissatisfaction.
When I finally couldn't take it anymore and announced one day that I wanted to eat meat, the reactions from my parents were anything but ordinary.
"M-meat? Don't tell me you want to eat the flesh of an animal?"
"Do you truly wish to eat such a thing?"
Both of them wore expressions of sheer horror.
"...No. It was just a joke."
"Tsk. Don't pull stunts like that. It's unbecoming."
"I'm sorry."
In elven common sense, eating meat was unthinkable. It was regarded not merely as barbaric, but as outright sacrilege. And so I resigned myself to a life without meat. I did briefly wonder what would happen if I didn't grow properly on this diet, but given how tall both my parents were, that didn't seem like a concern worth having.
That aside, elven life was remarkably peaceful.
My father was the Warrior Chief, the leader of the village's warriors, and he patrolled the forest keeping watch against threats from the outside. My mother tended the household while looking after our vegetable garden and fruit trees.
And me?
I just spaced out in the forest near our house.
Whenever I zoned out, I mostly found myself watching the blue haze that drifted through the air. That blue haze was invisible in ordinary moments, but if I wanted to see it, I could—and if I set my mind to it, I could even move it at will.
I knew what it was.
It was mana. Of that, I was certain.
I thought nothing much of it at first. Having been reborn as an elf, it was easy enough to guess that mana would exist in this world. The fact that I could see it and move it as I pleased, though—that didn't seem like an ordinary thing at all.
One day, I asked my parents about it.
"If you can see mana, does that mean you can use magic?"
Mother blinked at me.
"What do you mean, you can see mana? Mana can't be seen. It's just like the air."
Father narrowed his eyes.
"Are you seeing something strange, child?"
"...No."
I never brought up mana with them again.
Instead, I played with it on my own, moving it at will. It didn't go well at first—when I tried to force it toward me, the mana simply fled in the other direction. I learned I had to empty my mind and coax it along, gently, like soothing a skittish animal. Once I did that, I could draw the mana into my body and circulate it.
As the mana cycled through me, at some point its density would deepen, and its very nature would change. That transformed mana was far easier to handle, and rather than leaving my body, it took up residence in my heart.
It was a strange sensation. Slightly addictive, you could say.
Today, too, I was in the forest, circulating mana through my body, when a voice suddenly broke into my reverie.
"Are you alright?"
"?"
A woman was standing before me. Long, pointed ears—an elf.
There was nothing remarkable about that. I was an elf too.
She wore a worn robe and carried a staff.
Meina. The mage of our village. She supposedly spent her days on magic research, holed up in her house and hardly ever coming out.
"Is something the matter?"
"I was passing by and you looked off somehow."
"Off? In what way?"
"Your eyes had no focus in them."
I hadn't known that. I'd simply been savoring the drowsy warmth of mana flowing through my body.
"That happens sometimes."
"...I see. Well, you're alright, then?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then I'll be off."
Meina turned to leave.
"Um, actually—"
"Hm?"
"Could you show me magic?"
"Magic?"
I could see mana and move it at will. But I had never once attempted actual magic. I hadn't needed to—and, admittedly, I also didn't know how.
Still, who knew when the day might come when I'd need it?
I'd happened to overhear my parents talking. They said the orcs had been moving strangely lately, and that war might break out before long. Of course, even if war did come, a young elf child like me wouldn't be called to fight. But you never know, do you?
There was nothing to lose in learning magic. It wasn't as if I had anything else to do.
"Alright. I'll show you, just this once."
Meina gave a small smile and raised her staff. Something began gathering at its tip—not quite like mana, but denser, resembling the energy that had settled in my own heart.
It didn't simply pool together. Lines and geometric shapes wove across each other in intricate patterns until they formed a single glyph. Two stars rose within it, and from the empty air a fireball the size of a basketball blossomed upward.
"Ta-da! What do you think?"
"That's amazing. Can you send it flying too?"
"Of course. Want to see?"
"Yes."
She thrust her staff forward, and the fireball shot out, striking a massive tree nearby.
Whump!
"Ooh-hohot! Well?"
"The tree's a little scorched."
"That's because I held the power down. I could burn it to ash completely if I wanted to."
...As far as I knew, elves loved the forest and went to great lengths to avoid damaging it. They even planted and cultivated trees separately for lumber and firewood.
Yet this woman had set a perfectly healthy tree on fire, and was now looking pleased with herself about it.
"Ah."
She must have realized her mistake shortly after, because she quickly conjured a burst of water and hurled it at the tree. Destroying the evidence, apparently. But the tree was already charred black, and no amount of water was going to wash that away.
She glanced nervously at me.
"...We'll just say it was struck by lightning."
"It looks far too healthy for that."
"Hmm..."
"Why not actually drop a lightning bolt on it instead?"
"Oh! That's a much better idea."
She raised her staff once more.
I focused. And then I could see it—the energy pooled in her heart. It flowed out through her hands, gathered before the staff, and traced another glyph. Three stars rose within it.
KRAKOOM!
Lightning came crashing down. The tree exploded, and the fallen leaves and branches around it caught fire. Small flames flickered to life in scattered patches across the forest floor.
- F-fire! Fire!
- Over there!
I could hear elves shouting and running toward us.
"......"
Meina looked at me with a face on the verge of tears. I shrugged.
"Let's run."
We each bolted for our own homes.
The next day, I made my way to Meina's house.
Following the winding footpath, I found her home tucked away in a corner of the forest. I knocked on the door. No response. But she was definitely inside—I'd just heard what sounded like a chair toppling over.
"It's me."
A moment later, the door opened carefully, and she poked her head out.
"W-what is it...?"
"The elders are coming to drag you away. They said setting the forest on fire is absolutely unforgivable."
"Ah..."
Her face went pale.
"I'm kidding. May I come in?"
"...Y-yes, come in."
Meina opened the door and let me inside.
Her house was a disaster. Documents and books lay strewn across the floor in hopeless disarray, leaving barely a place to step. Careful not to crush anything underfoot, I made my way to a couch buried under a mountain of laundry and sat down.
"Want something to drink?"
"Yes, please."
Meina went to the kitchen and returned with a wooden cup, which she handed to me.
"It's water."
"Do you have anything else?"
"No."
"Water is fine, then."
I took a sip.
"So. What brings you here?"
Meina settled into her rickety old chair.
"Let me say this upfront—yesterday was a minor mistake."
"Don't worry. The fire was put out right away. Everyone thinks it was just a lightning strike—no one believes magic was involved. They're getting worked up about bad omens and how war must be coming, but nobody has any idea it was you, Meina."
I paused for a moment.
"No one but me."
"...You'll keep it a secret, right?"
"In exchange, I have a request."
"A request?"
"Teach me magic."
"......"
For a long while, Meina just stared at me, unable to find her words. Her expression was complicated.
"You're the Warrior Chief's daughter, aren't you? Luciel, was it?"
"That's right."
"Why do you want to learn magic? Did you see me casting yesterday and think it looked cool?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"It filled me with awe. Magic isn't just something flashy—I think of it as a wondrous discipline, one that lets a person understand invisible forces and give shape to their own will."
After returning home yesterday, I had asked my parents everything I could think of about magic.
Magic, first and foremost, required talent to learn. But even elves with talent rarely bothered to pursue it, because magic was simply too difficult and convoluted. Simple everyday spells for daily living were one thing, but learning offensive magic—hurling fireballs and the like—demanded enormous time and effort, and by the time you'd put all that in, you'd have been better off loosing a single arrow.
Granted, a high-ranking mage could wield devastating spells, but becoming one required innate, heaven-gifted talent. No amount of effort alone could reach that height.
In other words, even elves gifted in magic mostly found it more practical to train with sword or bow, and no one studied magic unless they were truly unusual.
I had deliberated long after hearing my parents out. Wasn't sword or bow training the wiser investment? Was there really any need to learn something so difficult and complex?
When the deliberation ended, I had decided. I would learn magic.
My father being the Warrior Chief, I did occasionally practice sword and bow. I was still young and didn't train seriously, but I'd picked up the basics. And in doing so, I'd made a discovery: I had no talent whatsoever for either. My sword swings were nothing but awkward, and my arrows missed wherever I aimed them.
Maybe my body was simply too young for it yet—but honestly, it felt like a lack of talent.
Magic, though? Magic I might have a talent for. I could see mana and move it as I pleased. The energy gathered in my heart, too. And above all, there was that glyph that had bloomed when Meina cast her spells yesterday. Somehow, instinctively, I felt I could understand it—understand how it worked, how it gave rise to magic.
"To think of magic that way—you're quite sharp."
Meina smiled.
"But magic isn't something you can learn just because you want to. First we need to find out whether you have the talent."
"How do we find out?"
"First, we check whether you can manipulate magic power. If you can't control it, you can't cast spells. One moment."
Meina rummaged through the pile of junk stacked in the corner and pulled something out—a transparent crystal orb.
"This is a mana testing crystal ball. Pour magic power into it and it glows blue. Watch—I'll go first."
Pyat.
The orb in her hand turned blue.
"See?"
"Yes."
"Now you try. If you can make the orb glow blue, you can learn magic."
She held the orb out to me. It had returned to its transparent state.
"Don't be nervous. Just imagine sending the magic power in your heart out into the orb."
"The magic power in my heart?"
"Mm. Everyone has magic power gathered in their heart. You just have to send it out."
It was true that energy was gathered in my heart—the power that deepened as I circulated mana through my body. So that was what they called magic power.
I took the orb.
"How much should I send out?"
"As much as you can. Everything you've got."
I began sending the magic power gathered in my heart into the crystal orb.
As much as I could. Everything I had.